Snapshots: Cyberganic AU
by FenixOfTheDark
Summary: A series semi-focused on the DJD, based around an AU where the Transformers are a race of techno-organics known as Cyberganics. Starts with re-writes of their scenes in the comics, but will branch out.
1. About Phase Sixers

"Answer me this. What _is_ it about _Phase Sixers_? Hmm? Why this tedious tendency to _rebel_?" The upper-class Tarnian was smooth and rich yet also rather bored, as if this was just another disappointment. There was barely a hint of her original accent left and even through the helmet, there was just something about it that made Tarn easy to listen to. "Take _Kardama_..."

Well, Kurokage or 'Black Shadow', as he'd called himself, but his real name had _never_ been forgotten. Not when it was fitting traitors _died_ _with_ _it_ and not the names they wanted to be known as.

Kardama was a wreck of a man compared to his former glory and it showed they had fun with him. He'd tried to run then fight- they _always_ did. It'd been a fun one, and now the half armoured and literally ruined man sat in the 'Chair' that was Kaon's HammerSpace Item. The blind man stood a bit behind it, hands very much off the controls.

Tarn continued to talk. "He was an _extraordinary_ Decepticon, he _was_! Handpicked by _Lord_ _Megatron_ to raze planets ahead of the cyberforming process..."

Kardama had razed the planet of Rigel IV himself; three billion organics on the cusp of spacefaring with weapons to match. Only one of the 'pure warbuilt' could have pulled that off, even without the Phase Six treatment and a squad or three waiting as back-up. "... He was all but _guaranteed_ a seat on the Conclave."

Tarn sighed, armour creaking as she shook her head slightly with disappointment. "Until, that is, he accepted _half a billion Shanix_ from the Autobots in exchange for blowing up a fleet of Decepticon War Worlds. At least now he's-"

"Er, Tarn...?" Helex ventured, the massively over-armoured woman nodding towards their victim. "Think he's still alive."

"I do believe you're _right_ , Helex. When he stopped sobbing and begging for his life, I assumed-" There was just the slightest of shrugs as Tarn took several steps back, prompting the rest of them to do so. A harsh yank on the chain from Helex saw the Pet move as well. There was more fun to come, after all. "Well, I assumed _that was that_. Kaon- one last jolt, then release him."

Kaon didn't really need to touch the HSI, but according to the newest member, it was 'easier'. Personally, Vos thought Kaon liked being up close and personal when using the Chair. Electricity crackled along the coils and Kardama convulsed with a scream.

And then, without much ceremony, he was sent crashing to the ground, prostrate before Tarn as the Chair vanished back into HammerSpace. From the tilt of Kaon's head, and the wag the Pet's tail, the man was grinning behind the stern looking helmet.

Silence reigned for about three seconds before the sound of something filled the air, and Kaon spoke up, half looking around before cocking his head to the left. "What on Cybertron's that _sound_?"

Huh. So, Kaon'd never heard it before, then. Hands on hips and never once taking her gaze from the pathetic excuse for a Cyberganic before her, Vos spoke up, if only to prompt Tarn. " _ **Is that what I think it is**_ _?_ "

"That is very much the _saddest sound of all_. A T-Cog ceasing to function."

"What-" If it weren't for the fact Vos knew Kaon to have a decent understanding of their anatomy, she' have thought him stupid.

"But don't worry," Tarn continued as if the man hadn't anything. As if the sheer power for that to happen was something _trivial_. "I'll play some _music_ to take his mind off the _paralysis_."

" _ **Of course you will,**_ " Vos muttered as Tarn knelt next Kardama, the man trying and failing to push himself up. Of course, the mutter drew the man's attention and Vos lifted her head, somehow managing to emote the feeling of a smug smirk through her helmet at the confusion in those dull brown eyes.

She could have answered it. But speaking to someone about to die, someone who didn't _understand_ , had long ceased to be amusing.

Anyway, Tarn had a spiel for this, like everything. "Vos is something of a _linguistic purist_. She only speaks the _Primal Vernacular_ \- what you philistines call _Old Cybertronian_. I-"

Though she didn't move, she did side-eye her Commander with a frown. It wasn't just old Primal Vernacular, it was _Vosian_.

"Just... get it... over with-" Kardama croaked out, clearly not caring for what Tarn was talking about.

Well _this_ is a first, Vos thought with a snort that didn't make it past her helmet. Typically Tarn got the whole spiel out. But, if he wants to hasten his death, then fine by her.

"Hmm," Tarn tapped her chin in thought, and Vos could almost see the woman's mental shrug. "I don't think you _quite_ understand how this works. Our _job_ is to hunt down Decepticons, who by their actions or inactions, have frustrated the realization of Lord Megatron's goals, and introduce them to a world of _unremitting pain_."

Now she just sounded put upon, like a caretaker scolding their Ward, which meant-. _There_ , the music had started. Beautiful and uplifting with the deep, resounding beat of a wardrum threaded throughout with undertones of classical techno. A triumphant song of the glories of the days of old, dedicated to Prima herself.

"Now, given that you were only _partially_ melted by Helex, and only _partially_ crushed by Tesarus..."

There was just something to watching them scream, beg, and pound away at the glass as Helex fired up her HSI of a mobile smelter, or the way they screamed as Tesarus slowly fed limbs through her grinding blades in such a way that allowed for an up-close and personal inspection of the flesh-and-metal of their bodies.

It was a good thing Cyberganics didn't bleed out as easily as organics.

"...I'd have thought it was _obvious_." But they all knew some traitors needed to be reminded. More to the point, the more Tarn spoke, the more Kardama trembled. "But take heart: If word of your preposterously gruesome demise reaches just _one_ Decepticon and _terrifies_ them into staying the course, then all the pain you've suffered would have been worth it."

"But- the war's over," the man croaked out in an unsteady voice.

"But the war's what? The war's _over_?" Tarn repeated. Placing two fingers under his chin, she lifted his head so the red optical glass of the facemask met dull brown eyes. "Oh, Kardama, that's _sweet_ , but-" The hand moved to stroke the injured face tenderly. Keen eyes caught the flinch and Vos wished she'd shoved the facemask's spikes in deeper.

But now was _Tarn_ 's time. "The war won't be over until _Megatron_ _says_ so; when he presides over a society so _peaceful_ that the very _notion_ of conflict is literally _inconceivable_. As he writes in ' _Towards Peace_ '-

"My weapon is my burden. A reminder of the path I was forced to take. When the word 'weapon' is emptied of meaning; when the purpose of a weapon is impossible to grasp; when the rejection of my weapon is of no significance to anyone other than myself... only then shall I remove it from my arm. Because only then will I have earned the right to rid myself of my burden."

-I could continue, but-listen! Have you noticed I've _stopped_ the music?"

At some point, she'd also stopped stroking the traitor's face, who'd fallen face-first into the dirt again. As he tried to push himself up, his trembles turned more violent and what little remained in his stomach made itself known in a show of blood and energon.

Naturally, it stank. Kardama barely had time to process it before Tarn was speaking again. "Is that significant? Why _yes_! Yes it _is_."

"Urk-?"

Under the helmet, Vos's mouth curved into a cold smile as she listened and watched. Her _Amica_ was in fine form today.

"You're thinking 'I've seen what the other four can do, but their _leader_ , with her _fine music_ , wonderful _literary quotations_ , _double fusion canon_ \- what makes her so _special_?'"

Vos literally felt her eyes roll into the back of her head. 'What, attaching a double fragging fusion canon to the armour and needing _a_ _ **full**_ _overhaul_ of _all_ the systems to do so and then recovering in less than a week _isn't_ special?' But she didn't voice the thought, not when Tarn was working her 'magic'.

"Here's the thing," Tarn continued on, now half crouched beside the Phase Sixer. "They say I can _talk_ people to death. ' _Weaponised conversation_ ', they say. 'I don't know', I say. 'Sounds a bit _pretentious_ '." That drew chuckles from the watching Decepticons, but Tarn ignored them. "'Maybe so', they say, 'but you can modulate the timbre of your _voice_ so it _falls into step_ with the listeners spark-pulse'. 'Well', I say, 'there is that'. 'And then, by gradually lowering your voice', they say, 'you can coax a spark into giving up'. That's what they say. What do you say?"

"I'm so, so _sorry_ -" Kardama whispered. In less than a second, Tarn leapt away.

They didn't need a warning; they all knew what happened when a Phase Sixer's spark stopped. True to form, Kardama exploded in green light and a spray of body parts and gore. Once the bulk of the smoke cleared, little remained but a smoking crater and what gore and body parts had been thrown clear. With little thought, Vos de-armoured with a crack of her knuckles.

"Bored now," Tesarus grumbled as she slowly de-armoured in a way that could almost be called _art_ as it folded back into the thick, silvery bands -bracelets- at the wrists. Even without it, the dark-haired, green-eyed woman was huge. Easily close to 6'4, only matched by Helex's impressive height of 6'5, to say nothing of the 7-foot both reached in the armour. "Who's next on the List?"

" ** _It's Megan. 'Overlord'_** ," as far as she knew anyway. She was no Kaon or Tarn to have memorised the whole thing. Back to front and upside down in Tarn's case.

"That's all very well, but we've got to _find_ her first," Tarn said with a roll of her shoulders, almost all of the armour gone save the mask and claws. Why became clear soon enough as she picked at it with the tip of a claw. At least it wasn't her face.

"I'm still scanning for her energy signature," Kaon said before Tarn could give the order. "The next target's in the Kol system. Clemency."

" ** _That's-_** " Vos stiffened, looking directly at her Amica. Tarn might not do favouritism, but this-. " ** _What, in Megatron's name, did he do?_** "

"He lived, Vos." Tarn sounded very, very tired and very, _very_ disappointed. "He lived."

" ** _Of course. Let's go collect him._** " Primus have mercy on his spark. Vos -Freya- knew Tarn - _Danielle_ \- would not.

Halfway back to the ship, Caja -Tesarus- ended up collecting some local flora for her organic studies. Frankly, no-one cared what Caja did on her downtime, as long as it kept her entertained.


	2. It's Personal, Part 1

I'd like to note here that ten years is literally a blink of an eye to Cyberganics, and when they hatch, they are physically/mentally tiny three-year-olds yet considered newborn. Well, if they hatch naturally, but more on this later.

* * *

 _Well, at least you started at the top_ _this_ _time_ , Vos thought, making no attempt to hide the exasperated sigh. Not that she herself had any room to talk, crouched as she was atop Kaon's shoulders. Was it awkward? Yes, but she'd had long years to practice, and it wasn't as if it were _that_ uncomfortable in full armour. One hand braced against the armour-born coils as they descended after Tarn, Helex, and Tesarus, along with the Pet, the thing's tail wagging non-stop. Not that said tank, or the vulnerable Cyberganic 'driving' it, lasted long.

Not even a full tank length away from the gangway did Tarn dismiss it to change into her armour.

Compared to the 'transformation' art of Tesarus, Tarn was ridiculously faster than the average. But, she'd always been so, even before the war. All the war had done, from Vos's view, was to invite her to burn through T-Cogs faster. At least they had sources for them.

"'You are being deceived.'" Tarn practically sang Megatron's infamous rallying cry as long, sinuous, lethally graceful strides took her out of the _Peaceful Tyranny_ 's shadow, the rest following after. If Vos didn't know better, she'd have said Danielle'd hatched a tank and taking on the 'Tarn' moniker only confirmed it. She was gracefully lithe, powerful and proud, and if weren't for the fact they were on a Hunt, no-one doubted Tarn would have donned a trench coat like Megatron favoured.

Small mercies, if you asked Vos, who practically flung herself from Kaon's shoulders to land in a crouch once they'd reached the ship's nose, while Tarn reverted to her HSI and sped ahead. Helex and Tesarus followed suit. Like Tarn, their HSI's engulfed their armour forms. They were lucky in many ways. "How often it springs to the fore of the mind."

 _Rude_ , the gunner thought with a snort as she took a few running steps, leaping atop Helex's HSI while Kaon and the Pet took to Tesarus as the pair sped after the squad leader. Technically, Kaon could have rode his Chair, but the speed on the thing was maybe half what Tarn could pull off, if that. _But, I don't blame her._

Fulcrum, according to the Generics who'd been with him (and in possession of Sarai's crashed P-6 Worldsweeper for some _unfathomable_ reason), was dead. Freya wasn't sure how to feel about that outside a vague relief Mortilus had spared his spark from the pain to come. Yet, there was also Danielle to consider; the woman had taken the news with her usual aplomb.

Many of the automated practice drones needed replacing, for one, and Freya _knew_ she'd picked at her face _again_.

The Guiding Hand revived to Cybertron, Nickel was going to have a field day once this was all over with. The mask was there for a _reason_ and Freya had not _literally_ sat on her Amica over it so she could ruin her face. That it ended up being the faction symbol, well. A mask was a mask.

Still. Fulcrum -their once Ward- was dead, seemingly in the closed coffin Tarn was rapidly approaching.

" ** _Be careful-_** " she warned over inter-armour comms.

Predictably there was no reply and Vos honestly didn't know why she'd bothered. Danielle was in a _Mood_. To be fair to her though, Freya was as well. This wasn't just any Wartime Ward- Fredrik -Fulcrum- was the only one they raised, because Megatron _himself_ had allowed it; Wartime eggs that hatched were _rare_ and precious.

Freya still had the pictures of the time stashed away. Most people would sooner think of them all as unrepentant killing machines and, perhaps they were when on the job, yet they also had other sides. Sides only seen in private.

Officially, they'd found the patch of twenty-eight eggs in an old worker's pit while hunting down a group of Autobots. Unofficially, Danielle had all but face planted against Fulcrum's egg after tripping and falling into the semi-pit. She'd been against the membranous 'window' of the egg long enough to impart her hair colour and height to the forming hatchling within. In her attempt to get up, she'd also imparted DNA into another egg.

A 'mother', to use the crude organic term.

Though, rumours over the millennia claimed at least half had hatched after Fredrik, most helped, including a green-spark, and Vos honestly could not remember if that had been the one Tarn's hand had touched. Not that it mattered. Green-spark or no, it was not, and _never_ would be, how a true hatching should happen. Either one hatched on their own, or they _didn't_. Anything less was an affront to life itself. Yet it was also Wartime and Mikhata -the Helex with them then- had reported the patch as per protocol.

Not reporting it- Vos held no illusions as to what happened to those who'd failed to report a patch.

They'd looked after Fredrik, taught him without care for what the bracelets said he was to be, and when he'd summoned his HSI and armour _exactly_ ten years to the day he'd hatched, he'd been assigned elsewhere.

They hadn't much bothered to keep track of him after that; no matter _what_ Tarn wanted, they couldn't have afforded to.

-And Tarn was at the coffin and-

" _ **HEY! WAIT-**_!" The call was too late because of course it was. She really was in a Mood, one that was about to get worse.

Glass shattered as an armoured Rani, moniker 'Grimlock', exploded into life, fists swinging and stinking of _circuit speeders_ of all things. The first two punches caught Tarn unaware and she staggered back as Kaon came in, but the next swing and punch caught him off guard as well before Tesarus was atop the Dynabot, slamming her face-first into the ground. " _DOWN_!"

Vos couldn't agree more as she jumped from Helex. Her eyes snapped to part of the crash field, attracted by the flash of winged magenta armour. " _ **Fragging**_ _ **set up**_ _ **. Over there.**_ "

"On it," the smelter confirmed with a nod, long strides carrying her towards the location, while Tarn's cry of "-I _**hate**_ you!" seemed to echo the field as she literally drove her tank over Rani.

That was one way of dealing with her, yes, but Rani might as well have been Tarn's twin given how absurdly strong and durable they _both_ were. Yet, only one was an Outlier with a transformation addiction, and true to form, Tarn dismissed the HSI and grabbed the other woman's head, smashing it into the ground repeatedly.

Vos would have stayed to watch, but Helex had flushed out the (unofficial, but it was only a matter of time before Tarn was done playing with Rani) traitorous Decepticons behind this.

With a crack of her knuckles, she sprinted towards the closest idiot.

-/-/-

 _I wonder if Tarn'll let me keep this one_ , she thought, heel grinding deeper into the delicate joins between wing, armour, and flesh, extracting yet another scream like it _always_ did. It affected the Hatched more so than Made, and Misfire was very much a Hatched whose joins and synaptic connections were art in and of itself. It was something not even the finest of Mades could achieve, and she regretted not taking more time with Kardama because every flier was different enough.

Ah; but watching Tesarus work her 'art' in taking the Kardama's wings apart bit by bit had been more rewarding at the time, as had the tryst with her in the showers. She would keep this one alive so she could take that time.

" ** _I'm going to enjoy peeling these from you,_** " she muttered, knowing only Kaon - busy with a _mono_ of all things- could understand. But it didn't matter, not when her words had the intended effect. Misfire squirmed, and her heel sunk deeper into the joins.

A familiar, if perverted and rude ( _what_ was it with organised religion and taking from the Primal Beliefs and twisting it?), chant dragged her attention over to an outrageously huge footed Decepticon caught up in Tess's waldos. She didn't catch the thing's name and she didn't care to. Not when it couldn't get the chant right (it was ' _my spark to spare!_!'), or when even a glance told her it'd be hard to work out just what her HSI was supposed to be. A tank? A jet? Something that was one of the engulfing types at any rate, and not for the first time envy churned her spark.

She could have changed her HSI. No one would have blamed her, but then her HSI wouldn't have been wielded by Megatron that one time. Wouldn't have had his finger on her trigger. Literally. Touching any HSI not one's own was intimate; feedback typically translated into pleasure and pulling the trigger of a gunner's HSI was kin to sending them into overload.

It had been a _very_ good overload.

Anyway, true followers of the Primal Beliefs rejected changing their HSI. _Item Attachment_ , many called it. Vos considered it staying true to what she'd been given.

Not that it mattered. The Decepticon continued Neo-Primalist false-chant as it was shoved into the grinder head first. A spray of gore later and that was that.

" _FLYWHEELS_!"

Her attention snapped back to Kaon and the mono he'd pinned. Arms wrenched back as a knee dug into its back, there was little it could do as electricity crackled over Kaon's coils. No, not just any mono. A mono of Triple M, if the body armour was anything to judge.

" _ **Hold it still!**_ "

"Hold still, genericon. Vos has a _favor_ to ask."

With one last heel grind into Misfire's back, Vos stalked towards the mono. In two clicks, her facemask disengaged, taking the bulk of visual input with it and rendering the world little more than basic greyscale shapes. Another click saw spikes spring from it. She would have liked to have seen the fear of the mono's face, both from the spikes, and the visage now worn, but she'd have to image in it.

"Wear my faaaceeee." Ugh. Speaking it was the worst.

"Excuse the _pronunciation_ , she's still learning," Kaon added helpfully, but Vos paid the electrocutioner no mind as she grabbed the mono by the back of its head, and forced the mask onto it with more force than strictly needed.

There was a tiny bit of blood along with a muffled scream. The spikes wouldn't go much deeper thanks to the helmet, and she wanted to keep this one alive long enough to teach it the error of rejecting what Adaptus gave.

" _Behind you_ ," came Kaon's voice over the inter-armour comms.

Vos sidestepped at the last second.

"I was aiming for the other one-" was all Misfire managed before the Pet was atop her, chewing and clawing at an arm.

Tossing the mono aside, Kaon knelt beside her, voice jovial, almost friendly. "You've not met my pet _Sparkeater_ , have you?"

Misfire's squeal of panic and the urgent sounds of someone trying in vain to get the frag _away_ , almost made up for diminished sight. Almost, and for a second, jealousy flared in Vos that Amalric -Kaon- could see better than her right now, thanks to the 'echolocation' the maybe-Outlier employed.

But. She could see well enough to know Helex had thrown one of the traitors clear into the shadow of the P-6. And, it seemed, flushed Fredrik out. If running away counted as being flushed out. Oh well. They'd have time to hunt him down once the distractions were dealt with.

"Though," Kaon continued on as Vos turned her attention back to the man briefly, trusting her weight to keep the mono pinned. Kaon never really introduced the Pet the same way twice in a row. "She tends to _chew_ sparks, rather than _eat_ them. But- 'Sparkchewer' doesn't really _work_ , does it?"

Vos didn't hear the reply; she didn't need to, and, it was more fun using her weight to press the facemask that much deeper into the mono's face while it failed uselessly. Stupid thing, it wasn't as if she could kill it like this. Nor would it suffocate; their kind could survive unprotected in _vacuum_ for an hour at least, though she'd yet to find anyone who could last longer than three hours. But just doing that wasn't fun, and, one foot firmly on the thing's chest, she yanked the mask off, shaking most of the blood, energon and bits of gore free before retracting the spikes.

It was the shaking of the ground and the cut off shout from Tarn that caught her attention- she had to wince. That would leave marks, even with how resilient Tarn was thanks to her green-spark. And, of course, the words.

"Stout-sparked Decepticons and D.J.D scum! May I introduce- _Mighty Mega Puncher_!"

 _Seriously_ , Vos thought as she clicked the mask back on, allowing a restored optical feed to wash over her vision. The colour scheme needed work, even if it was official. _Did you have to name a cybernought_ _that_?


	3. It's Personal, Part 2

This project isn't abandoned. Life just gets in the way.

* * *

"It's –ugh– it's just a _cybernought_! Take it _down_!"

Tarn's order came at the same time as the cybernought's finger cannons fired on Helex and Tesarus. Neither their battle-honed reflexes nor slickness of the native Iaconian staccato pitch would have saved them from the close-ranged blast and it flung the pair back several metres. They landed with unsettlingly heavy thud-thumps amidst a debris choked dust cloud. They were the thump-thuds that heralded enough force to either stun, force a devastatingly slow reboot of systems, or worse yet, heralded the kind strong enough to knock out a fully armoured Cyberganic in the pair's weight range.

The blast, though close, _hadn't_ been enough to kill, so neither were dead and Vos would think on the mechanics of it later, when Kaon wasn't lighting up the skies as coils sparked and arced as he pumped the wretched thing full of electricity. All the Commission-Made needed was a cloud, and he could have been an electric storm straight from the Ionic Plains of Vos. Hidden copper conductors channelled it into the focal quartz set within palm armour and from there, it crashed into the cybernought with enough force to light it up like some garish Mid-Dark lightflight the High Towers did, back in Cybertron's Antebellum. The thing sparked and crackled and if Vos thought for one moment she stood a chance at sniping the pilot, she _would_ have taken it. But she didn't and watching as Amalric's Primus-given gift overloaded not only it but also the fragile synaptic connections was reward enough. If the pilot wasn't outright killed, they'd be fried and paralysed long enough-

There was little warning to the twin blasts from Tarn's canons, the Outlier's armour dented and battered, but it was ununtrium treated on top of being linked to a green-spark and the woman inside unharmed but furious. Given enough time, her gift could have taken the thing down. But they didn't have that luxury and none of them had more than a passing knowledge about P-6 cybernoughts. Plus, these were _Sarai's_ and there was no telling what the renegade scientist could have done to them.

Better to take them down the _old-fashioned_ way with brute force.

The blasts hit dead centre and only added to the electrical storm Kaon controlled. It staggered back a step or so, wobbled, raised an arm as fingers glowed- then it fell back under the weight of another blast from Tarn. It hit the ground with an almighty cacophonous rumble of metal, rock, earth and several metric tones of dust, dirt and other debris.

" _We'll check if the pilot's dead once we deal with Fredrik and the other traitorous Decepticons_ ," came the sharp order across internal IACs.

" _Yes ma'am_!"

" _ **FREDRIK**_!" Tarn bellowed as she dismissed the tank in favour of her armoured self, stepping forward with all the languid, sinuous grace of a bladewing heronsong just before it dove, and even over the external IAC channel, one didn't need to see her face to know the Outlier was far from amused. " _No more distractions_! Come out and face the music!"

Her voice was singsong as it teetered on the edge of using her gift to make sort, sharp work of Fredrik and none of the DJD blamed her. They all knew the history with this traitor; it had been a point of pride for Tarn to raise him. As they gathered by the feet of the downed cybernought, Vos thought she could see the red of synaptic fluids pooled under the behemoth. It mixed with both the pure, fluorescent purple of energon and the ruddy green of the thing's blood to create one of the more ugly colours of the spectrum.

"Up here, _Tarn_ -"

It wasn't easy to turn Tarn into an insult, but somehow, the traitor had managed it. As one, they all looked up to find the speck that was Fredrik, clad in full K-Class armour as he stood atop the P-6 Worldsweeper. "I've prepared a speech!"

"Trust me, _no one_ gives a flying-"

"Tough!" the man interrupted. Vos had to give the coward credit; he had steel in his spine. "I'm gonna speak and you're gonna listen. After that, whatever."

" ** _Let him speak_** ," Vos didn't need to see Tarn's face to know the woman's expression was a thunderous one that matched the arcs of electricity from Kaon's coils. Moving closer, she brushed her hand over Tarn's. It wasn't as good as skin to skin, armour-on-armour never was, but it was something when reverting even part of their armour mid-battle was a _serious_ breach of professionalism for the job. " ** _He's only digging the pit deeper_**."

"I was lucky; I hatched when the Decepticon Empire was at its peak and I was raised by the Empire's so-called _best_! They taught me we'd overthrown our _oppressors_ and torn down a system that served _only_ those at the top and _nobody_ else. We'd turned outwards- refining the galaxy by cleansing it of the life too backwards to know it was inferior to us."

Kaon's coils crackled, the Commissioned settling only when Tarn held up a hand. " _Freya is correct. He's digging the punishment deeper_."

"-You know what went wrong?" Fredrik continued, oblivious to the DJD's by-play over their private channels. "The thugs and sadists and sociopaths and psychopaths! People like _you_ , who viewed the war as an excuse to inflict pain on those around you!"

Vos straightened, metal creaking as shoulders shifted, hands clenched and head dipped forward enough the interplay of angles, light, shadows and glow of optics spelled it out. The man she and Danielle, along with Mikhata, Sergi, and Anda -may Primus rest their sparks within the Well- had raised was both an idiot and only adding to the manner of ways they'd draw out his death. " _ **Sociopath? Pyschopath...**_?"

Freya took offence to that and her rifle was in her hands without a thought, and Amalric's Chair next to him. This traitorous thing _dared_ lumped them in with Megan, who was very much a pyschopath and mad thing that needed to be put down, green-spark or no. Freya knew she might enjoy her job and hunting down those who strayed from the path, but it was a _job_ , something that _needed_ to be done to advance Lord Megatron's vision of a Decepticon victory. Nothing more and nothing less.

As personal it was, she could not allow emotions to rule her. Not when she wanted to see how far the traitor was willing to dig his own grave, and it took some effort to push the riffle back into HammerSpace. She'd use it later; shoot his knees out or the like.

" _An_ excuse _for pain?_ " There was no doubt Amalric was frowning, if not outright sneering under that helmet of his and Vos would not blame him. Not with _how_ he'd come into the Decepticon fold.

" _Let him dig,_ " Helex hissed as she came up behind them, Tesarus beside her.

"Yesterday, I met the Scavengers. Average and _normal_ and _brilliant_ \- _true_ _Decepticons_!"

"Six failures?!" Kaon hissed with all the fury of a cornered cyat and the indignation of a scruffed kit, and the Pet gave a snarling, frothing visual to the emotion it's master felt.

" _Not failures_!" Fredrik snapped and behind the solitude of the mask, Vos snickered to herself. That had been more a knee jerk reaction, and it was nice to know Fredrik was still nothing if not predictable. "These so-called failures fought for me when I really, _really_ didn't deserve it and _restored_ my faith in the Decepticon Cause-"

Vos blinked, both physically and over the visual feed. Their former Ward had lost it? Another mark against him. Nevermind they'd only had ten years with him; they'd ensured he was a dedicated supporter when he left their care. To lose faith in the Cause, in the Decepticons, in Megatron -in _Jack_ \- was unacceptable.

"-and each of _them_ is worth _ten_ of you!" Fredrik spat and the sound over the IACs was enough to send a shudder down Vos's spine as a memory from the distant past tried and failed to rise, while Fredrik threw his arms out and looked patently ridiculous. Then again, he was just trying to stall his death. At least he had some creativity.

"What I'm about to do is for _them_ —for _everyone_ the DJD has murdered. You murdered. For _everyone_ who's fled in protest of what we've become."

"I don't believe it. You're _running_!" Tarn's voice was tight with fury as Fredrik vanished from view.

" _Of course he is, he's a coward-_ " Freya muttered privately to Danielle. " _You really expect_ _anything_ _less?_ "

"No, Danielle-" The man said as he reappeared and took a running leap off the P-6's edge. "I'm _jumping_!"

As he fell, he curled up and the designer bomb that was his HSI engulfed him. He might have thought it brave, but they knew it _wasn't_. He'd been re-forged into a bomb and he was doing what the think-tanks had designed the K-Class for: to kill. It wasn't brave; it was carrying out one's function; the one Fredrik had failed the first time. That he was now doing it was a letdown but they could collect the pieces and hang them up in the shooting gallery after.

" **CLEAR**!"

They scattered even before Tarn gave the order. Even though it hadn't fallen from an optimum height, it was still _K-Class_ and it hit the ground with a _kroom_ and flash. Besides the dust and debris it kicked up, a mushroom cloud easily twice the size of Tarn formed. It hung in the air for several seconds before it collapsed back on itself to slowly give way to a smoking crater.

"Well, _that_ was a letdown," Tarn said as she slowly approached, unable to see past the smoke that till hugged the crater.

"Typically, they fall from a _greater_ height," Tesarus explained as she both helped Vos up from where the woman had thrown herself and pocketed another handful of the soil into one of the collection pockets within the armour.

"Yea, a much greater one. Think anything's left of him?" Helex added, though she too stayed back. K-Classes were nothing to sneer at even if the explosion hadn't lived up to its name.

"We'll see when the smoke clears-,"

"Tarn! _Tarn_!"

Tarn jerked slightly when Kaon latched onto her arm, helmet somehow emoting a smile even though it was physically impossible. "Yes?"

"I've been scanning for her ensig like you said after- and, and- _I know where she_ _is_!"

"Megan?" At Kaon's excited nod, Tarn exhaled, the air forced out the helmet vents. " _Finally_. Everyone- back to the ship!"

They where just going to leave this when it was personal to both of them?! " ** _We should-_** "

"The ship, _Vos_." There was a touch of the gift alongside a tone that brooked no argument.

" ** _Yes, ma'am_** ," Vos snapped off a salute as respectfully as she could muster. As much as she didn't want to leave _without_ confirming Fredrik was, at the very least, dead, if not in several pieces they could collect, Tarn's order was final and told the woman believed the coward had _finally_ filled his function as a bomb.

It wouldn't be given twice, even to an Amica.

With one last, long look at the crater that was Fredrik's grave, she hitched a silent and reluctant ride back on Tarn-the-tank until they were ramp side.

She vaulted off and stalked up the ramp. Even through armoured boots, she could feel the ship shudder to life as Amalric triggered the ship's take-off protocols while he made his way into the ship, Caja following, and the Pet at their heals like the loyal thing Freya'd designed it to be. Danielle, true to form, paused midway up, but Freya honestly could not give a mono's-cog about whatever was broadcast to the remaining traitors as she hip-checked Sefuria -Helex- and nodded to the waiting Nickel, who's narrowed, energon-blue eyes locked on Danielle specifically.

More so once the ramp was closed and the woman had de-armoured save claws, which idly picked at the various scars that littered her body.

" **Medbay** , all-"

" _ **Later,**_ " Freya all but hissed, not missing a step as boots clanked against metal until they hollowed out as armour sank back into HammerSpace and her current outfit took over while brown hair once against framed her vision. " ** _When I'm done with Sef'. Then I'll come. Deal with Danielle. Her scars-_** "

"Yea," Sefuria grunted in agreement, and then they were gone. To spar. To frag. To spar and then eventually get patched up and get updated on the newest target, assuming Bianca had done as she'd _promised_ and it wasn't another false lead. If it was, they still had Bianca's position as a consolation prize.


End file.
